


The Enemy of My Enemy

by MeridianGrimm



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (sort of), Absolutely everyone hates Jurgen Leitner, Canon-Typical Horror, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Pre-Canon, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:39:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeridianGrimm/pseuds/MeridianGrimm
Summary: Seven feral avatars hold a strategy meeting before the attack on Jurgen Leitner’s library, and it goes about as well as you’d expect.





	The Enemy of My Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> I jokingly made [this post ](https://meridiangrimm.tumblr.com/post/185258720618/how-about-the-fact-that-jurgen-leitners) about wanting to see the meeting where the Entities negotiated their team-up, and then decided that I needed to write it.

Alfred Grifter surveys the paranormal forces seated in the comically ordinary conference room.  “Should we do a roll call?” he asks sardonically.

“That’s not necessary,” Maxwell Rayner replies from the head of the table before returning his attention to the rest of the Entities’ representatives.  In total, there are seven of them in the room, representing exactly half of the groups that Robert Smirke had once classified in his writings.  “Now that everyone is here, we can get right to the point.”

“And why do _you_ get to lead the meeting?” Judy Perry asks, slouched back in her cushy chair and flipping the cap of her lighter.  Her neighbors on either side, Simon Fairchild and John Haan, have both discreetly scooted their chairs away from hers.

Rayner gives her an unconvincing, unpleasant smile.  “Because I was the one who contacted you all.  This is a temporary alliance made by our patrons for a single, specific purpose.  There will be no violence between us, and anyone who cannot agree to this requirement is welcome to leave right now.”  Perry rolls her eyes, but doesn’t protest any further.  She clearly hadn’t wanted to actually coordinate the meeting, just grumble a little.  “As everyone should be aware, we are gathered here to retrieve our benefactors’ tools from where they have been imprisoned.  That snotty upstart who fancies himself a librarian, Jurgen Leitner, needs to be taught a lesson.”  His smile turns sharper.  “After all, there is a long tradition of gods and powerful creatures punishing humans for their hubris.  He will make an excellent example.”

Perry snorts.  “There’s an easy solution to that.  Just burn the whole building down around him and the books will be free again.”

“If the wretch hadn’t used Smirke’s principles of balance in his building plan, then I’m sure your lot could have run wild with your, ah, _predictable_ solution.  As it is, though, we don’t know what protections Leitner built into those walls.”

“Kill the librarian,” Haan suggests.  He’s the only one who had brought lunch – at least, it’s _probably_ lunch – and is casually popping something into his mouth that looks like toes, apparently unconcerned with the bones.  Those of the acolytes who were previously human wish he would stop, but nobody wants to be the first to admit that he’s making their skin crawl.  “He is only a single bag of shifting meat, after all.”

“He doesn’t leave his home,” the Buried’s avatar murmurs in a low voice.  She is unfamiliar to the rest because the Choke only keeps a minimal presence in the UK.  She’d flown in from somewhere in North America out of the blue after Rayner had left a note with the Buried’s coffin.  The young woman, whose polo bears the name of a cemetery and whose shovel now rests against the wall, had not given her name.  “I have noticed in the past few days that the librarian receives deliveries for everything he needs.  His employees know the delivery staff, though, so there’s no slipping in that way.  They won’t even open the door to folks they don’t recognize anymore.”  A few of the others nod.  At this point, most of their patrons have sent emissaries to Leitner’s estate in hopes of retrieving their books.

Rayner hums, looking thoughtful.  “His assistants are a possibility, though.  They leave the mansion after their shifts and there are six of them.”

“Five,” the Buried corrects softly.  “One of them read _On Claustrophobia_ today and won’t be returning to – well, anywhere.”

Haan nods.  “Once one of the assistants lets us inside, it will be simple for me to dismantle the librarian.  I will take my time, for maximum suffering.  He has been an irritant.”

“And why should the Flesh get to kill Leitner?” Simon Fairchild challenges from his seat beside Rayner, raising an eyebrow at Haan.  “We too have been considerably inconvenienced by having our texts locked up.  It’s presumptuous for you to claim the right to his death.”

The Spiral raises one of its long, deadly hands for attention.  “Here’s an idea: whoever reaches the pesky man first gets dibs on killing him.”  Its smile is too wide for its face and it seems to occupy both too much and not enough space in its chair.  In fact, something about the chair now looks very wrong.  The arms of the chair actually look like human limbs now, but bent in ways that no human could ever achieve on this plane of existence.

“Ooh, I like that.  Bad luck for the rest of you, though – the Desolation will win for sure,” Perry announces.

Fairchild laughs.  “You have never experienced true power, child,” he declares, amused.  “Fire is useless if there is nothing to burn.  The vastness of the universe is so much grander than any destruction you could wreak.”

“Oh, I think if you gave me long enough, I could put a good dent in it, old man.”

Haan slams his hands on the table.  “This is not a contest, you – you _sentient candle_.  The seven of us are working together peacefully, as we all agreed by coming here.”  The irony of his belligerent attitude towards maintaining “peace” goes unnoticed.

The conversation derails from there, and through it all, the Spiral laughs at the mischief it has caused.  It rubs its distorted hands together with delight, generating a cacophonous screeching like metal on metal.  The sound burrows into the ears and minds of the others in a way that could never be mistaken for anything natural.

Amid the bedlam, Grifter very deliberately stands up from the table and strolls over towards his guitar case against the wall.  He flips open the clasps and withdraws his instrument before bringing it back to the table.  Grifter calmly settles into his seat and pats his shirt pocket for a guitar pick.

“You, Slaughter boy, don’t even think about it,” Perry hisses, finally noticing something beyond her argument with the others.

“I thought a little music might help everyone calm down,” he replies with a nasty smile, as if his infernal tunes wouldn’t make everything worse.

Rayner takes the opportunity to regain control of the room.  “For the moment, let’s table the discussion about who, exactly, is going to kill Jurgen Leitner.”  He waits until the other acolytes are settled back into their seats and Grifter has reluctantly put down his guitar.  “In fact, leaving Leitner alive might actually be preferable.  That way, he suffers for his pride and becomes a walking example of what happens when one errs so grievously.”

“Oh, so the man is _exempt_ from the worst of our wrath now?” Perry asks.

“This alliance won’t work if we’re at each other’s throats over who gets to kill him.  We need to focus on our attack.  Let’s say we call a one-week moratorium on trying to kill him.  You can think of it as giving him a brief head start, if you want.  After that, if any of you and yours want to hunt him down, that’s your business.  Does that sound fair?”  There are a lot of unhappy murmurings around the table, but no one openly disagrees.  They’re probably each making plans to kill Leitner anyway.  At least the seven of them don’t have to pretend to come to a consensus about it.

Rayner claps his hands together.  “Back to our primary concern.  We need to determine how to get in with Smirke’s architecture being, well, what it is.  Also, Leitner has clearly gathered enough intelligence on the books to realize that he needs paranormal defenses on his estate.  I, for one, am not keen on encountering any of those unpleasant surprises.”

“Is this not something that the Eye would be useful for?” the Buried asks.  “Do you have any contact with its acolytes in this country?”

Rayner shakes his head.  “Bouchard could certainly know Leitner’s defenses if he wished, but he won’t help us.  The bastard enjoys watching people struggle.”

“I could talk to the Lukases,” Fairchild offers.  “While they couldn’t spare anyone to attend today, I know they’re interested in recovering the Lonely’s texts.  They have some sway with Elias’ Institute, I believe.  The only catch,” he adds, “is that it might cost a favor for their intervention.”

Haan grimaces.  “I’m not thrilled with the idea of owing the Lonely.”

After a few muttered agreements, Rayner sighs.  “Can we at least agree on _when_ we’re going to attack, then?  Assuming we puzzle out the library’s defenses this afternoon, I say we go in tomorrow after sunset.”

“Oh, so you can murder six avatars in the dark?” Perry retorts.  “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t plan to participate in the attack myself, Ms. Perry.  I am just here representing the People’s Church of the Divine Host.  One of my associates will be joining you there tomorrow, and she will have strict instructions not to harm any of you unless provoked.”

“The Desolation won’t go unless there’s daylight.”

Grifter leans back in his chair contemplatively and taps his fingernails on the table.  “The hardest part is still going to be getting in.  Everything else can be managed fairly easily, as we’re all well-practiced with destruction.”

“Oh, dear,” the Spiral says, “if only we had… some kind of door… that could go anywhere you wanted… at any time…”  The other avatars glare at it, instantly suspicious.  “What are those looks for?  I wasn’t thinking about trapping you in the corridors.”

“You’re lying.”

“Ah, you caught me.  I thought about it a little.  I want those books free to roam more than I want any of _you_ , though.”  It scrunches up its face in distaste.  “You’re all claimed.  More trouble than you’re worth.  There are plenty of fearful humans in the world, so there’s no need to pick on any of you.”

“I don’t trust you not to be tempted,” Fairchild states.

“Do any of you have a better idea?” it asks.

The group sits in silence for almost five minutes as the other six acolytes try and fail to come up with an alternative plan.  If Leitner has anything tricky marked into the walls, doors, or windows in his house, no one wants to be the one who trips it.  The Spiral’s way in is the easiest, and they all know it.

Perry is the first to capitulate.  “God, fine,” she says, rubbing her temples.  “Just know that if you try to catch us in your stupid corridors, my people will burn your doors and hallways to the ground.  We’re not afraid of you.”

“Noted,” it replies with a too-wide grin.

Rayner clears his throat.  “Does everyone agree to this plan?”  One by one, they go around and murmur their assent.  “Excellent.  My representative will meet up with you here tomorrow afternoon at 4pm.”  He collects his coat and starts towards the door, but then pauses.  “Can someone explain linear time to the Spiral so it’s here when we’re ready to go?”

“Not it,” Grifter says immediately, which ends up setting off another argument among the avatars.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are much appreciated!!
> 
> Find me on my [tumblr](http://meridiangrimm.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk about The Magnus Archives.


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